The Volunteers
by pockethuman
Summary: Cato always knew that he would volunteer at the Reaping. When he befriended Clove, he knew she would as well. Still, nothing could have prepared either of them for the day it actually happened.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

A knife whizzed past Cato's head and stuck with a thud in the board behind him. _Initiate defense attack. _He darted forward towards the person who had thrown the knife. The girl waited for him to get within a foot of her, and then she sidestepped at the last minute, her black hair flying around her. Cato was expecting this, though. It was the move she always made.

He whirled around behind her, whipping a foot out. He made contact with her calf, and she fell to the ground. There was no way, though, that she would just leave it at that. This girl, no, she'd fight until she could no longer.

She reached out as she fell, managing to snag a hand around Cato's shirt, bringing him down with her. Her hand still clutched Cato's neckline as their bodies hit the grass, but before either of them could move, a boot came down on the girl's wrist.

She grimaced, but no sound escaped her lips. Cato's fist clenched, and he was just about to swing a punch into the boot owner's side when he lifted his boot. The girl scrambled up, and Cato was quick to follow. He snaked an arm behind her back and squeezed her shoulder, trying to communicate the words of comfort that he couldn't speak aloud. Their trainer glared down at both of them.

"First, sloppy technique, both of you," their trainer spat. "Second, how on earth do you expect to survive ten minutes of the Games if neither one of you can catch me, of all people, before I do something like that? Really? In the arena, you won't be going up against fifty year old men. No, you'll be up against much more nimble kids your age. And honestly, Clove, quit pouting. You show weakness in the arena and you'll never get sponsors. Cato, quit comforting her. You two are competitors. Act like it." With that, he walked away, on to torture his next trainees.

"So, two days left, and Mr. Hodge still thinks neither of us have a chance."

How defeated Clove's voice sounded instilled an almost unbearable urge to go punch their sorry excuse for a trainer, Hodge, in the face.

Cato rubbed a circle in her back. "Is your wrist alright?"

Clove nodded.

"You know, neither one of us have to volunteer. We can stay here. Get married. Ignore our families' arguments." He took her hand in his.

Clove smiled up at him. "I know you wouldn't disappoint your family like that, and you know I can't."

"Well, maybe we'll be reaped. Someone would volunteer, and then there's nothing they can do. It wouldn't be our fault."

Clove let out a dry laugh. "Wouldn't that be something? For once, something would work out in favor of us being together."

Cato joined in her laughter. "Yeah, right?" Sometimes life just didn't seem fair. Sometimes it seemed that everyone was working against Cato and Clove. Sometimes Cato wished he and Clove had been born in another district, like eleven or twelve. No training, no volunteering, no pressure. Just living life.

Clove stood up on her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around Cato's neck. The hug only lasted a second. Then Clove stepped away, saying, "I'd better go. I wouldn't want my family to catch us together. Meet me outside the bakery at dusk."

Cato nodded. "See you then."

For a while, Cato stayed on the training grounds, slicing things with swords and trying his hand at the knives. Of course, he wasn't near as skilled at that as Clove was. She would probably always be better than him at knife throwing.

"Cato!" The shout came mid-throw. Cato turned around to see his father walking towards him. He braced himself for what was to come. "Hodge told me about your practice today. He might not see it, but you go too easy on that girl. If the reaping wasn't in two days, I'd have the right mind to stay up here during your training sessions myself."

"But the reaping _is_ in two days, Dad. It's too late to make any major changes." He tried to force his voice to sound disconnected. He shrugged to add to the effect and turned back around to continue throwing.

His dad stepped up beside him. "Tell me, son, why is it that you've all of a sudden taken a liking to the throwing knife? You're much more skilled with the sword."

Cato didn't slow his throw. As the knife sailed toward the board, he answered without looking up, "Exactly. I could use more practice with the weapons I'm not as proficient with. Then I won't be completely dependent on there being a sword and a sword alone in the arena."

The knife hit the board with a clank, the blade not even close to sinking into the wood.

"You act like I'm such a fool, son! I can see right through your act. In fact, I saw that girl walking back home on my way here. She looked pretty upset. Didn't even notice me walking beside her."

"Of course she was upset, Dad," Cato said as he went to go collect the knives. "Hodge can be pretty harsh."

"And that was it, then? Just Hodge's comments?"

Cato swallowed. "Yep. Just that. Why don't you just trust me?"

He walked back to the place marked for throwing knives.

"Cato, it is not that I don't trust you. It's only that I want what's best for you, and you're trying to stand in the way of that."

"I'm sorry if I want to live my own life."

"I have wisdom that you really should listen to."

Cato threw the knife. It hit the board with another clang. Thrown sideways again.

"Come on, Cato, we're going home." His dad turned to walk away, but Cato hurled one more knife at the wood. The blade buried itself in the board with a soft thud.

With a slight grin, Cato turned from the training grounds to follow his dad back home.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

"Did your dad get on you again?" Clove asked as soon as Cato walked behind the bakery.

Cato nodded. "He won't even listen. He even got mad at me for throwing knives."

Clove's grin was contagious. "So you tried your hand at that? How'd it go?"

"Stuck one out of about thirty."

Clove punched Cato in the shoulder. "I'll always be the pro at that. Don't even try to catch up to my level of skill."

"How do you do it, Clove?"

"What? Always manage to lighten the mood no matter what? Throw knives with uncanny precision and accuracy? Be the best at not only that but also at making you laugh?" Clove grinned.

Cato took her hand and laughed. "All of the above." He led her away from the bakery and towards the city's center.

The two walked towards the lights of the city, but Clove stopped when they almost reached them. "Won't we get caught?"

Cato shrugged. "Who cares? Our parents already suspect it."

"I love it when you're rebellious." Clove squeezed his hand.

"And you act like you aren't."

Clove feigned surprise. "Me? No way."

As they entered the river of light, Cato repeated his question. "You never answered me. How do you do it?"

"Oh, that?" Clove grinned. "That's just how I do."

The two of them carried on their flirtatious conversation as they walked the city's streets until they grew tired. Then, Cato walked Clove back home, although not daring to go any farther than the street. When he went home himself, he found it more than difficult to fall asleep. The reaping was in two days. He could only hope that Clove wouldn't volunteer or that someone else would beat her to it. Or maybe, just maybe, her name would be drawn. Then she'd be safe.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Cato put on the clothes his mother had picked out for him. The three of them gathered around the table to eat what could be their last meal all together. They hardly said anything. When the time came, Cato filed out of the house with all the other teenagers to head towards the city's center.

He searched the crowds for a glimpse of Clove's black hair, but he couldn't see her anywhere. The officials pricked his finger, but he hardly noticed it. As he was pushed through the crowd towards the front of the lake of people, he caught a flash of black. Clove? Maybe. Either way, she was too far away for him to catch her.

He just wanted to say goodbye.

Cato waited on the side with the boys through the introduction, the video, the talking.

Then: "First, the ladies." A manicured hand reaching into a crystal clear jar. Mixing the small papers up. Resurfacing with one of them in tow. Unfolding the paper. "Palea Grome." A small girl started to move towards the stage, but someone- a voice that didn't belong to Clove- spoke up.

"I-"

"I volunteer as tribute!"

Everything stopped. Cato could hear nothing but the words echoing in his head. Words spoken in a voice that sounded a lot like Clove's. But it couldn't be hers. She was going to stay in District Two, Cato was going to survive the Games, and they were going to have their wedding when he got back.

But then a small girl with sleek black hair stepped out from the crowd. She met his eyes, smiled a sad smile, raised her hand in a half wave, then proceeded to the stage.

"And what might your name be?" the announcer cooed in a too-happy voice.

"Clove Sevina." Her eyes searched the crowd, and she probably made eye contact with her parents. Despite her wandering eyes, she stood tall, confident. Like nothing could shake her.

Then the announcer moved to the next jar. "Now for the gentlemen." Her hand swam around the pool of papers.

_Please don't be me. Please don't be me._

All Cato knew was that he had to go to the Games now. There was no backing out. For Clove.

"Trinton Banks."

A large boy who was probably on the older end started to move through the crowd, but Cato didn't give him a chance to get any more than a step in.

"I volunteer as tribute." He kept his voice as calm as possible, stepping through the crowd with ease.

When he joined Clove onstage, it took every ounce of his willpower not to envelope her in a hug. He settled for the handshake that all tributes did. Then they were shuffled back to the rooms where their families and friends would come to say goodbye to them.

Cato didn't have to wait very long in silence at all. The door burst open with his mom and dad standing in the hallway. His mom rushed forward, tears wetting her eyes.

"I told you not to get too emotional. It's only going to make this harder," came his dad's warning from the threshold.

His mom straightened up, but she still enveloped Cato in a hug. "I love you. I'm going to miss you. I can't wait to see you back home. Be strong," she whispered in his ear.

Then came his dad's turn. He stepped forward, silent for a moment. Then, "Son, I am very proud of you. I have the utmost confidence that you will perform well. You're going to make each and every one of us here in District Two proud to be your friends, family, and neighbors." He outstretched a hand to shake it, and it looked like his speech was over, but then, when Cato clasped his hand, he pulled him in for a hug.

"I love you, son. I always have. That's why I've been so hard on you. I just want what's best for you. I love you," he whispered.

Cato couldn't remember the last time he'd heard those words. It probably hadn't been since he'd started training. He was probably six or seven. Tears started to glisten in his eyes as his dad stepped away. Cato did his best to blink them away.

For a moment, he couldn't say anything.

But then his dad said, "See you when you get back."

And his mom blew a kiss and burrowed her face into his dad's shoulders.

Just as they were about to walk out of the room, the words flew out of Cato's mouth. "I love you too, Dad. I love you both. See you soon."

His parents waved, and then the door shut behind them. Surely no one else would be coming to visit Cato. He didn't really have any friends- training kind of took that away from someone- and his parents were the only family he had.

So Cato practically jumped when the door opened again. His trainer wasted no time. He walked right up to Cato and began the rundown.

"I just stopped by Clove's room. Cato, I'm going to tell you what I told her. Get sponsors. Listen to your mentors. Don't be predictable. Be quick on your feet. I have trained you well. I'm sure one of you will come home with that victor's crown." Then, just like that, he turned and walked out of the room.

A few more minutes of silence of followed, but then one of the Peacekeepers ushered him outside and into the car that awaited him and Clove. Just outside the window stood his parents, Clove's parents, and their trainer. Cato waved at all of them, not daring to smile lest he break into tears. When the car had driven away from the crowds of people, Cato turned to Clove.

He smiled at her. "We can do this," he mouthed.

"We'll get through it." She smiled back.


End file.
